


Cut a Heart in Half

by saisei



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Comfort, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Canon, Widowed, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22051177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saisei/pseuds/saisei
Summary: It's the first solstice since Prompto died. Gladio tries to take care of Ignis. (sequel to https://archiveofourown.org/works/13507488)
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 15
Kudos: 93
Collections: Fics from the Basement





	Cut a Heart in Half

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year!
> 
> Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLRzef2XzKSy5t3skqsRzNTiofsdxgyRjh

Ignis told Gladio in no uncertain terms that he would be perfectly fine over the Solstice holiday. Sure, Gladio thought as he packed up his truck for the long drive south. Ignis was always perfectly _fine_ , like a very expensive watch that still kept perfect time, despite having lost two owners in the past decade. He didn't know how to not be functional, which was why Gladio had to be there, unwelcome as his presence would apparently be.

He didn't want Prompto to have to come back as a ghost just to kick his ass. He'd promised he'd take care of Iggy, and Amicitias kept their word.

Ignis was still living in the house he'd moved into after he and Prompto tied the knot. Gladio didn't know if Ignis considered it his home, or if he saw himself as the caretaker of Prompto's legacy. The last time he'd visited had been late summer, and they'd spent most of their time taking care of the sprawling vegetable garden. Ignis did like his self-sufficiency, Gladio'd give him that. They hadn't talked about Prompto much, even though Ignis walked down to the cemetery every time he went into town. He liked to leave odd things on Prompto's grave.

When Gladio had finally broken down and asked, Ignis shrugged and said he fancied that Prompto would have wanted to take a picture of the seashell he'd found that morning. Gladio hadn't had the heart to say that no matter how pretty the shell might have felt, it didn't look special at all.

But he figured that maybe the shell had something to it that Prompto would have seen, or that Ignis could have shown him. They'd been weird like that; them hooking up had seemed so unlikely that Gladio had had to bite his tongue on more than one occasion to keep from blurting out _but what do you see in him?_ But once he got used to watching them be together, somehow they clicked, and he couldn't imagine them apart.

Which was why he was worried, and why he didn't want Ignis to be alone, especially as the days grew shorter. Trusting the sun to return was hard enough these days, and he couldn't imagine what it was like being both blind and partnerless.

Not that he expected Ignis to be grateful or gracious. He pulled up to the side of the road in front of the house and took a deep breath. He still wasn't okay with Noct being gone, fuck all that time being the great healer bullshit. He worked hard to fix the country and help its people, and even after all these years he just wanted to hear – even once – Noct say he was doing a good job. That he was proud of him. That even with his King gone, Gladio was still a worthy Shield.

He didn't think anyone had ever told Ignis they loved him until Prompto, and vice versa. He figured losing that was still a fresh wound. It hadn't even been a year.

He got out of his truck, slamming the door loud enough to give Ignis some warning, then unloaded his stuff and made his way up to the front door. He knocked, got no answer, and let himself in.

Ignis was in the kitchen, at the stove cooking up something that smelled amazing, and he didn't even turn around, just said: "Why are you here?"

"You know why." Gladio put his bags and boxes under the table next to the door, so Ignis wouldn't fall over them. He gave Iggy a critical look, trying to see if he had gotten thinner or if his hair was grayer. He looked mostly the same, he decided, which was a relief. Except he seemed to be cooking enough to feed an army. The dining table was completely covered, and more dishes had overflowed onto the coffee table. "You having a solstice feast tonight?"

Ignis' shoulders slumped at that, and Gladio straightened in alarm. He expected a smartass comeback, not... honesty.

"I find the act of cooking calming," Ignis said. The blandness of the statement was naked, like despair or heartbreak or the final setting of the sun.

From the volume of food he'd produced – and was still creating – he had to be aware how disturbing the implications of that were.

"You do you," Gladio said. He tried not to sound judgmental. Probably he failed, because Ignis turned the gas off, put a lid on the pan of stuff he'd been babying, and turned to face him with a foreboding frown.

"Save your worries for those who care to be fussed over."

"Hey, I've got wheels, if you need a hand delivering all this stuff." Gladio waved his arm around, figuring Ignis could probably sense that, from the displacement of air. Or from his tone. "Where's it going?"

Ignis opened his mouth, then shut it, lips thinning to a tight line.

"I'll find you a place," Gladio said into the stubborn silence. "There's got to be something happening at the school or the hospital for the holiday eve. We could take stuff around to elderly shut-ins, if you've got any of those around."

"I know full well what this looks like." Classic Iggy: he sounded so _furious_ in his defeat.

Gladio'd offer a hug if he thought there was any chance he'd get taken up on it. Instead, he rolled his shoulders back, cracked his neck, and asked Ignis if he had any boxes lying around to carry stuff in.

It took a couple of hours to get everything sorted and the truck packed up. Gladio wasn't selfless; he made sure that they had enough left to eat over the next few days. They still managed to make the feast tables set up down in the town hall groan under the weight of pastries and bread, roasts and stews and fruit pies. Everyone very politely did not wish Ignis a happy new year, and Gladio could feel distress and an urgent need to leave radiating from him, even though he accepted their thanks with impeccable manners.

Back in the house, Gladio was hit by sudden regret. He'd walked in and immediately tried to solve Ignis like a problem, but now the big open living-dining-kitchen space felt cold and empty. Maybe Ignis had put in all that work in a superstitious attempt to bring the space alive. Make it a home again.

He wondered what Ignis did when he was alone.

Ignis let him put together two plates for dinner, and they ate opposite each other, mostly in silence. The food was excellent, as always; Ignis brushed off all complements, likewise. He asked after Gladio's family, but with stiff courtesy and not any real interest – not that Gladio was at all inclined to remind him that _his_ life hadn't been shattered all over again, and he still got to wake up to the person he loved most mornings.

Washing up afterward, he told Ignis he'd be staying a few days, and Ignis did his best to discourage him. He wanted, he said, to be by himself.

"Why?" Gladio asked. He supposed Ignis might have a good reason, which he'd honor. He wasn't just an asshole for no reason. But Ignis might also have something terrible planned, and Gladio was – again – selfish. He refused to be the last of them to survive to old age.

"Don't you have your own children to badger and over-protect?"

"Who said anything about protection?" Gladio stretched, letting his neck and shoulders crack. "Maybe I just wanted to stuff myself on good food."

Ignis gave him a scornful look. He wasn't wearing his visor these days, and apparently he was skilled at using his eyes as expressively as he used to. "You just gave away all my food," he pointed out. "I expect reimbursement, by the way."

"I can weed your garden, fix loose roof tiles, whatever. Let me know." Ignis pressed his lips together and shook his head, just like Gladio knew he would. " _Whatever_ ," Gladio repeated. "Right. I'm going to set up the tent, then I'll borrow your bathroom and get out of your hair."

"You can stay here," Ignis said, as if the idea of letting even an unwelcome guest sleep in the front yard was anathema. "The cot's in the shed – Talcott put it away after his last visit. He generally gives me the courtesy of a call beforehand," he added, "so the proper preparations can be made."

Gladio nearly argued that they'd been through way too much together to need to resort to propriety with each other, but he knew he was on thin ice. Intruding, even though he meant well. "I'll go bring it in. I'd appreciate if you could spare sheets and a blanket."

"Nothing's been aired," Ignis warned, but he headed off to the bedroom, letting Gladio make his way out back, trying not to trample any of the vegetables in the dark.

When he'd wrangled the cot inside, doing his best not to pinch his fingers in the wire mesh, Ignis directed him to the bedroom. In the space of a few minutes he'd moved the bedside table and the dresser, making just enough space for the cot against the wall. Gladio unfolded it and flipped the mattress over, and Ignis made it up with an impatient perfectionism that reminded Gladio of how he'd cleaned up after Noct for years.

Ironic, when he'd come all this way to be someone Ignis could lean on. To offer comfort and companionship.

"You mind if I take a shower?" Gladio asked, frustrated with himself for not knowing how to do this right.

"Be my guest," Ignis said, and produced a carefully-mended towel, stiff from being sun-dried. It smelled like the wind coming off the sea.

When he came out, hair toweled as dry as possible but still shivering in the evening chill, Ignis was seated on the sofa with his legs pulled up, a blanket over his lap and sipping from a mug.

"Tea's in the kitchen, help yourself," Ignis said.

Gladio did, and joined him on the sofa. Ignis passed over a knitted throw, and Gladio winced. He'd forgotten that people had given Prompto all this stuff, trying to make him comfortable in his last days, and that Ignis of course, being practical, wouldn't throw any of it out. He wondered if Ignis had anything of Noct's that he used daily.

"So how are you doing really?" he asked. The mug between his hands was almost too warm to hold, but he needed that heat. "I know you're fine. You always are. But how are you?"

"Will anything change if I submit my feelings to dissection?" Ignis sounded more amused than bitter. Gladio supposed he'd been preparing his defense for hours, ever since he arrived.

"Maybe," Gladio said. "If you're lonely, you've got friends. Me, for one. If you still have days when sun hits your face and you feel like you'd welcome the darkness back if it meant – you know. If there's stuff you can't talk to just anyone about, because they wouldn't understand."

Ignis sighed, looking down at his mug for a moment before taking a long sip. "You don't need to be scared for me," he said. "I have never been prone to depression, and I do value my own life. I'm not lying when I tell you that I'm fine."

Gladio leaned over, making sure to give the movement away, and poked Ignis at the temple. Ignis swatted his hand, and Gladio poked him again before letting his hand drop to settle on Ignis' shoulder. "You're grieving, though."

Ignis went tense at that. "How clever you are at deduction."

"How come you're so good at pushing people away?"

That struck a nerve, going by how Ignis froze, and then Gladio could have kicked himself when he realized that _of course_ Ignis had done the same thing to Prompto. Been so embarrassed or scared by the strength his own emotions that he'd had to walk away, only returning when it was too late for any kind of happy ending. When he could be useful.

"I didn't mean that," Gladio said, but he was shit at lying.

Ignis leaned forward and set his mug on the table. "Of course you did. It's only the truth, after all." He pushed the blanket aside and stood. "I'll be heading to bed. It's an early morning tomorrow."

Gladio waited until he heard Ignis settle before getting up himself. He folded the blankets and washed the mugs, and then slipped into the bedroom. Ignis was curled up on the cot, face to the wall, and either asleep or faking it aggressively to keep Gladio from saying anything. Gladio got under the covers, but lay awake a long time, missing his home and his family, and all his dead.

He woke when Ignis got up, and followed him through the dark house, even though Ignis protested that he'd be fine going on his own.

"Yep," Gladio agreed, and headed out with him in the pre-dawn dark, down the road in the cold to the beach.

When they got there the sky was already brightening, the last stars overhead fading out of view.

Ignis pulled Gladio to a stop, and pulled off his shoes and socks. He walked down to the water's edge, stopping when the foaming edge of a wave curled around his toes. He bent and set something on the water – Gladio puzzled over it for a moment before realizing it was a photo. Of course. Ignis turned after a moment, there being no point in watching, and made his way back up. He hadn't brought his cane, which meant he trusted Gladio to take care of him at least this much: to tell him where his shoes and socks were, and to lend him an arm to lean on as he pulled them on.

When Ignis straightened, Gladio shifted so his arm was around him, holding him close against the bite of the wind. "It's beautiful," he said. "The sun's burning off the mist, and everything's hazy and gold."

"Pretty as a picture," Ignis murmured. He tipped his face up to the light, and Gladio saw he was crying. Not desperate sobs, but heavy tears that slid out from his closed eyes and caught the light as they fell. "My apologies."

"For what," Gladio said. His own throat ached with grief and longing. "It's fine."

"I've been telling you that," Ignis said. He took a deep shuddering breath, like all would be lost if he let himself go, and then carefully leaned his head against Gladio's shoulder. "Would you describe the sunrise, please? It's... I miss how he used to do that for me."

"Yeah." Gladio pulled Ignis in tight against his side, as if that would keep him safe. As he started to talk, he imagined Prompto and Noct watching them, close but so far away.


End file.
